Save Your Cold Sympathy
by RagChinaDoll
Summary: "Who's hurting you, Spike?" something's wrong with Spike and has been for a while, the team have been worried but nobody has said anything. After he and Greg are held hostage, his problems only worsen. It's only after he disappears that the team find out what truly terrible things have been happening. Will the team be able to help him or will he be lost to cold sympathy.
1. Chapter 1

**Save Your Cold Sympathy**

**Summary: **"Who's hurting you, Spike?" something's wrong with Spike and has been for a while, the team have been worried but nobody has said anything. After he and Greg are held hostage, his problems only worsen. It's only after he disappears that the team find out what truly terrible things have been happening. Will the team be able to help him or will he be lost to cold sympathy.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any recognisable names, nor will I ever. I own the plot and unrecognisable names. I am making no profit from this work other than the warm happiness I receive with reviews. I do, to a degree, own the security feature described in this story. I've taken bits and pieces from real security features from office buildings and put them into this one.

**Warnings:** Strong language, mentions of murder, aggressive actions towards Spike, domestic abuse, mental illness, and drug use (non-illegal ones I think). I suggest that if you find any of the above disturbing or triggering, than please turn away from this story. It is not my intention to anger or harm anyone with any of my writings. I hope that I have written the issues above in a realistic manner but not too realistic that it will be too hard to read. Longest warning I've ever written.

**A/N:** this story is darker than my first Flashpoint story, to me anyway. As mentioned above, I'm dealing with a lot of adult themes that those of a sensitive nature may find disturbing. The original plot of this story was different before writing began, in fact this story is a combination of two separate stories I had planned. Please let me know if anyone is finding this too disturbing or if there is anything you wish me to look at again. I say again, it is not my intention to anger or harm anyone.

Oh and Leah isn't in this story. I've tried and failed at writing her, so for the benefit of her fans and toher character she hasn't happened yet. Sorry to Leah fans.

Enough of me covering my arse, there's a story here somewhere, oh there it is. Enjoy.

**-Chapter One-**

_Breathing was becoming harder and harder with every blow to his chest. His eyes were burning with the pressure of the tears trying to leak from them. _

"_Have you seen Mike?" the woman wept into the man's shirt, "I was with him… we were talking an…and…and now he's gone. I need to find him, please; they want to take him away from me. They've been telling him lies and I'm trying to protect him."_

"_We'll find him."_

"_Everyone's been saying that, and we haven't found him. He's here, somewhere, cold, drugged, and alone!" he yelled at the man in front of him, "The temperature's still dropping, the time frame of finding him alive is dropping and I don't want to waste any more of that time!"_

"_I've found him!" she heard a voice yell. She began to run, almost falling as her feet landed on a discarded book._

"_Breathe, please breathe?"_

**Thursday 19th**

It was drawing to the end of a long week for the team, one filled with hostages and hostage takers, annoyed teenagers with un-loaded guns, and angry mothers out for revenge against the man abusing their daughters.

When she had a week like this, one that would stress both the body and the mind, Jules enjoyed taking the long route from her home into work. It helped not only to kill time before being due in but it was a chance to think. Which part of the living room was she going to paint first, was she going to stick with the original colour she had chosen, or was she going to change her mind again. And the question that was driving her hazy at this time was 'Who would want to hurt one of the kindest people she knew?'

The trivial matters of her house meant little when it came to the welfare of her friends, and if she knew there was something wrong with them and did nothing to help, then she would never be able to forgive herself.

She first noticed the bruises when working out in the gym alone with him before the others had arrived; _She was fighting against the swinging punching bag, which was trying to win, while he ran several miles on the treadmill. For whatever reason he tripped and wasn't able to steady himself resulting in him falling to the floor. She automatically raced to his side leaving the swinging bag of ball bearings forgotten behind her. _

_When she reached him he had recovered somewhat from the fall, his legs were crossed beneath him at the foot of the treadmill, eyes closed, his head bowed as he tried to get his stuttering breathing back under control, with one of his hands against his chest while his other lay limp in his lap. His upper body was swaying like a leaf in the wind as he breathed in and out in short ragged gasps._

_Her lips had just parted to speak when she noticed them; horrible brown marks decorated his arms around his wrists, near his elbows deep scratches were engraved in patterns of four, and at the crook of his neck a cut beginning to scab was visible under the collar of his shirt._

_She thought that he was wearing the long sleeves because of the Canadian winter, with the temperature dropping each night of the week, the thought hadn't crossed her mind that he was hiding something from them. _

_When he realised what had caught her attention, he awkwardly pulled his sleeves down to hide the ugly blemishes from her view, holding them in the palms of his hands so they would not move. "It's nothing," he quickly told her as he struggled to stand on unsteady feet. As the rush of vertigo wind passed his head, he'd have surely fallen again if it had not have been for Jules' steadying hands on his arms._

"_Doesn't look like nothing," she replied, her words sounding ruder than she had intended them to be. Her eyes travelled to the collar of his shirt, pulling it down slightly she saw the full image of the marks on his chest. _

"_Please, don't tell the others," he begged, his voice soft and quivering, as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes. To Jules he sounded like a child who, after being caught misbehaving, was pleading not to be punished by their mother._

"_I promise," she said nodding her head. She was rewarded with a smile as he turned and walked away, glancing back at her with every few steps before disappearing into the male locker room._

She regretted saying that. She thought about asking the others if they had seen any changes in their friend, had they too noticed the bruises, even if it was just to find out how long it had been going on for, but she was a person of her word; she'd keep it a secret as he had asked her.

In the meantime, she would continue to come up with reasons, explanations, as to why and how he could have gotten those bruises, those wounds. She had narrowed down her thoughts into three questions:

Had his lack of sleep been making him clumsy? She knew he had been having trouble sleeping, ever since Lew, it would account for the dark bags under his eyes.

Had he been hurting himself? She was a trained professional; she'd be able to see the signs of self-harm, there were none.

Was someone hurting him? She couldn't prove that. From what she knew about his family they were dedicated to keeping him safe, they wouldn't harm him it was against their nature.

Parking in her usual spot, and stepping out of the car, she spotted the familiar red car parked three spaces away from her. He was early again.

"Hey, Winnie," she smiled at the dispatcher as she passed the desk.

"He's early again," Winnie noted, looking at the man in question, "He was here before I arrived. Is he okay?"

Jules looked over at the man in the briefing room. He looked like he was reading but his eyes weren't traveling across the page as she would expect to see. He always read when he had the chance, if it wasn't some technical book it was a novel or history book. When she had seen him read in the past every now and then he would smile to himself or show some emotion, she saw nothing like that now.

"How long has he been here?" she asked, noticing him wince as he took a large intake of breath.

"I can't even tell if he's been home."

"I'll see you later," she said walking towards her changing room. Before she reached her destination, she almost bumped right into Greg as he exited the men's changing rooms, "Sarge, could I have a word?"

"How well do you know the shooter?" Wordy asked of the two men before him.

The team had spent the morning at HQ working through various strategies for a drug bust they would be helping on in the following week. They then went on patrol, they were half an hour in when they heard Winnie's shout of 'Team One Hot Call'.

He and Spike arrived at White's Family Law Firm first and were speaking with two of the security guards, one of whom had been injured, as they awaited the arrival of the rest of the team. They had learnt that they were dealing with a forty-something ex-employee named Malcolm Hillman who was currently running around the building with a loaded gun possible targeting a Ben White who he had been seen arguing with earlier in the day.

"I don't know what's gotten into Mal's head," the youngest of the two said as the power-medic placed another wad of gauzes on his wounded leg. "I stared working here a few weeks before his wife died. He was always so upbeat. His wife used to work here too before, well you know, he killed her-"

"We don't know that for sure boy," the older said with a warning tone. "He was sure having a go at Ben though. Don't know what sort of beef he has against the man. We may have found out if this one didn't try to be a hero. What were ya thinking you fool, trying to take a gun from a trained killer. You think I want to handle another rookie, rookie?"

"Sorry, boss," the younger said sheepish, looking away from the elder eyes to hide the failure displayed clearly on his face.

"Would you know how many people are still in the building?" Wordy asked, gaining back the attention of the two guards. "Please, it'll help us to know."

"Ten or fifth-teen. Some work from home, some are out because of the weather, and some are always in the field and only come in to file paper work or for court cases. You'd need to speak with Howard Cope, Samantha Dams, Milo Taylor, and Richard Ullman. They're the heads of eac… arghh," the younger man's words were cut of as the medic applied pressure to the wound.

"Sorry," the medic apologised, "flesh wounds bleed a lot and hurt a whole lot too."

The older continued form were the younger left off, "The 'heads' of each section do a count at the start of each day. Comes in handy with fires, bomb threats, you know that sorta stuff." Pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it over to Wordy he continued, "I always keep a list of their numbers in case," he said with a hint of satisfied glee.

"Thank you, hope you have a speedy recovery sir," Spike said, directing the last part to the wounded guard.

The two SRU members turned and walked towards the rest of the team who had arrived while they were speaking. Looking up Spike noticed the building for the first time. The buildings name had been bugging him since he first heard the call out and now he knew why. The building's exterior, although now covered in blissfully white snow, rang a lot of bells in his head.

"I'll be right back," Spike said excusing himself before he and Wordy had reached the others, already turning back and running to the two guards who had now been loaded into the waiting ambulance. Before reaching them he began asking, "This building am I right in saying that it has the 'Scot Lookout' system?" he asked pointing both hands towards the building.

"Not in its entirety, the building new so things are still being installed," the older guard said, pausing in his action of closing the ambulance doors. "Worked with this company since it began never needed a computer to guard it in the past."

"What features do you have?" Spike asked urgently.

"The gas is linked into the sprinklers and most of the doors will be permanently locked until the pin is entered." The man looked over his shoulder to his friend whose head was thrown back in pain, "Do you mind, we've gotta move."

"No, go, go and thank you again. Drive safe." he smiled at them, like a child with a new toy. "Guys, we may have a tiny problem," he said to the air looking at the sky as he jogged over to the team. "This building has a security feature called 'Scot Lookout', I was reading about it in a journal, developed in china and since banned in china because of the side effects…"

"Side effects?" Sam interrupted, looking at Spike seriously as he reached them.

"After all the floors are under lock down, doors and windows bolted, and air vents closed off, Nitrous oxide…"

"Laymen terms please," Wordy all but ordered the man.

"Yea sorry, Nitrous oxide which to the less scientific speaker would be laughing gas, is realised into the air though the sprinkler system for, strangely, seven point nine minutes and then the building is automatically unlocked so emergency services can enter. The side effects' the gas leaves behind in the body is the reason…"

"Spike, fast-forward," Greg said spinning his hand around in a circle in the air.

"Large doses of anything can be dangerous, in this case some developed serious lung problems others never woke up, and the developers developed problems similar including; slower muscle reactions, damage to the brain, and dysfunctions of internal organs, blah, blah, blah. Be sure you've got gas masks' with you, if we're still in there when it's released they'll be needed."

"How did you know this building had the looker?" Ed asked.

"The Scot Lookout, and I read it in a journal you know those things with words," Spike said, stifling a laugh. "This building is one of the only ones this side of crazy town that has it. From what I can gather, only the Nitrous oxide and the doors are in working order. It may make it easier to control the situation or ten times harder."

Greg looked up, plan formulating in his mind, "Spike, you and I will set up a command post in the security room. Our subject Malcolm Hillman worked in this building before he was fired so he may have come prepared for this situation. Spike you think you can get us more time on the gas problem?"

"Anything is hack-able Boss," Spike joked already running towards the truck to fetch what he'd need.

**End of Chapter**

**SO what do you think. Most of the story is still being written but I have most of the beginning ready. Just checks to be made and then day one's down. **

**Also thank you to everyone who reviewed To Lose, To Save. I loved each and every one of your reviews and still read them to make me happy and spur me on to write more. **

**Please review, they help.**


	2. Chapter 2

YAY. Ten reviews for one story. I love it. I've not really been myself recently because of an operation I had, all the reviews cheered me up.

**Dawnpritvhard66:** Thank you. I glad you're interested. Spike's problems are only going to get worse so people should yell at him to tell them he's not listening.

**SlippedHalo8186: **Thank you, I spent a lot of time and effort in the first chapter and this chapter too but I still fill like it's not good enough. Try not to hold your breath too much your body needs the oxygen.

**Babycakesfan:** Thank you, happy to know you like it.

**Angellinsyney: **Thank you.Well if I told you who it was the story would be spoiled. I'm happy you find it interesting, like I said it was two stories rolled into one so there was a lot of little interesting bits and pieces to combine. Nice to see you back.

**Vbm: **Thank you. Like I said a lot of work went in to the first chapter. I had previously wanted to get the story posted during the summer holidays but that didn't really work.

**ShirleyTemple1932:** Thank you. Here is the more you were after.

**Mermers: **Thank you. If you think the beginning was interesting you should see the rest.

**Kdj539:** Thank you. The summary changed about seven times before I wrote it the way it is now. And Thank you for also taking the time to read To Lose, To Save. It's nice to see you back.

**BoyyM: **Thank you. I'm glad I pulled you in, that's what I wanted to do. Writing a realistic hot call is really hard, especially when you're trying to keep the characters in character and keep to the cannon rules.

**Guest: **Thank you and hello. Here's the chapter you were looking forward to.

**Chapter Two**

The team had decided that the best way to approach the situation was to split up in order to search the building for Malcolm Hillman, who had yet to been found. Ed, Jules, Sam, and Wordy were currently searching the third floor after finishing searching the second floor. The only people they had found were scared employees who were escorted out of the building by uniforms.

Greg and Spike were in the security room which located on the first floor of the building at the very back past the main offices and 'interesting rooms', to put it Spikes way.

Spike sat at the only desk in the room multitasked on both directing the team in their search and trying to slow down the buildings security system. On the wall opposite the desk four screens were mounted each one labelled as a different floor, each split into floor boxes alternating between angles of the different area of that floor, and each showing desolated hallways. The only light source in the room was a weak bulb handing from the ceiling and the glow from Spikes computer which highlighted the dark bags under Spikes eyes. Outside of the door, which was on one of the side doors, behind a very well hidden door was a staircase leading to the floors above.

Greg was seated next to Spike looking further at the employment record of their subject. So far he hadn't found much that they could work with, Malcolm was a model employee, married for seven years with no children, worked for the White family for over twenty years, knew Ben white before he joined the company, recently released on parole following a hearing about the case against him. He had been charged with the murder of his wife Claire Hillman.

Sighing he closed the file and threw in onto the table in front of him. It landed with a slight smack and a gust of wind. Standing up he walked across the room to the three screens. Standing with his back against the wall he looked at Spike. Under the glow of the computer he could clearly make out the dark bags under his eyes.

To those who didn't know him, Spike looked like his normal professional self, working to keep the peace, but to those who knew him well he was acting completely out of character. He looked uncomfortable in his skin, his hands would fidget more often than usual when he wasn't typing at his computer, he had been jumping when someone unexpectedly touched him, when he smiled (something that had become a rarity) it didn't reach his eyes. Above all what scared him the most was how tired Spike appeared. He knew that Spike had been spending more time in the locker room after shift either starring at the floor or at Lew's locker like he was communicating to his friend.

He was shocked that he hadn't noticed the change in the younger man's behaviour. Spike was someone who would help his friends the moment he knew there was something wrong with them. Why wasn't he able to realize that something was wrong? Instead the problem had to be pointed out to him by someone else.

Jules had pulled him to the side first thing in the morning before he had the chance to talk with Holleran and the Detective in charge with the drug bust on Monday morning. She had told him that she had seen a difference in Spike, that she couldn't tell him what she knew, just that something was wrong with Spike and they needed to look out for him.

"Spike, how long until the gas is realised?" he asked stepping back over to the desk. He noticed the slight twitch on Spike's face at his sudden question.

"The nitrous oxide will be released in approximately," Spike paused to glace quickly at the timer he had set up on his computer, "wow, just under thirty-nine minutes, judging by my calculations. You might want to rush it guys."

"_Spike, any luck turning the timer of?" _Sam asked.

"Hay what I do is not luck it's skill. I hacked into the outside main frame and used the pass key Milo Taylor gave me, if I can trick it into thinking it's going slower than it is we may gain a few minutes. I may also hit a trip wire and set it off completely before the deadline. You know for a high security building, their network security could be hacked even by Ed."

"_Watch yourself Scarlatti; I don't think BabyCakes would appreciate your humour." _Ed warned, everyone knowing he was smiling.

"You wouldn't?" Spike quickly responded in shock. Greg couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. "Boss I'm going to need protective custody for BabyCakes." He begged as he turned a pleading look to the Sargent.

"I'll see what I can do." Greg replied still laughing. "But first, what can you tell me about numbers. How many heads have we still got out there Spike."

"Nine people are still unaccounted for. A group of five on level three, possible three on level four, and the interesting Ben White is MIA." Spike informed them. Before they had even set up, he had pulled out his phone and dialled the numbers given to him from the security guard. He had spoken to each of the floor leaders, informed them to get somewhere safe, and to contact them if anything were to change in their circumstance.

"So what do we know about the allusive Mister Hillman?" Greg asked the team. Standing again and picking up the folder, he walked around the desk so he was standing in front of Spike and his computer. "We know he lost his wife, could or could not be the killer. He lost his job and his facing jail time."

"_He's got a grudge to settle, with Ben maybe."_

"How can you be sure Sam?" Greg asked. He was looking at the folder, the family history and past employment record suddenly interesting now. He placed the folder on the desk

"_The first thing he does when he gets here is go straight to White. If not for a grudge then what?"_

"Because he killed my wife," a sudden voice said in the darkness.

Greg looked up and went to pull his gun but then he noticed that the man in front of him had already pulled a gun and was holding it against Spike's head.

"You're the Boss." the man holding Spike asked Greg in a low tone. Pushing Spikes head to the side with one hand as the gun ran down his face to below his chin. "This here is clearly the team geek."

"It's Malcolm isn't it-" Greg began but stopped when Malcolm clicked the hammer of the gun back. Greg raised his hands.

"If I wanted you to talk I would have told you to speak. Put the gun on the table," he yelled, his voice becoming instructive as he gave his command.

Greg didn't comply straight way, not until Spike was pulled out of his chair by the arm that rapped itself around his neck, his knees were kicked forcing him to kneel on the floor, as the gun was pushed harder into his head. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure then to end this pathetic life right here, so just give me a reason to end it."

Greg nodded his head, eyes locking with Spikes slightly scared one, as he slowly took the gun from his holster and just as slowly placed it on the table.

"Aww, it looks like he cares about you. How sweet," Malcolm mocked.

"_Greg, keep him talking we're almost there," _Ed said slightly whispering. No doubt they had heard what was going on in the

"If the rest of the team are listening in," Malcolm laughed hysterically, "Hi everybody you've joined the party. And like all parties there are rules to play by. You do anything wrong," he said starring at Greg in the eyes, "The geek has to pays. If he does anything wrong, hay Greg make a guess."

"I pay." Greg sounded defeated even to his own ears. True he had had to handle situations like this in the past, had to handle too many situations like this in the past, but added with the events of this past year he wished he didn't have to. The fact was, and he knew this to be true, he was beginning to slowly and slowly not trust himself in the field. The fact that he had not noticed the change in Spike was evidence to that.

"Wrong, but that's okay you weren't to know." The gun began to trail down Spikes check again stopping when it came to the spot between his shoulder and neck. "No if he does anything wrong, then I squeeze the life out of him and nothing would give me greater pleasure then to do so. So boys start stripping. Radio's first."

"Shit!" Ed yelled as he ran in to the room. The minute they had heard the intimidating voice in the room with Greg and Spike, they had stopped their search and raced back to the security room.

When they reached the door leading to the security room they slowed their pace in order not to startle anyone. Slower than any of them could stand they approached the security room, it was void of people. All they found was the turned over table, Greg and Spikes protective gear, and their guns.

On one of the, now, broken computers was a note left for them by Malcolm. It read, 'Does it make you angry, knowing I'm ahead of you?' The combination of the mocking words and the state of the room, not to mention there vanished friends, led to Ed presenting everyone with his collection of creative words. The word he had repeated the most had four letters beginning with 's'.

"This is not good," Jules whispered between her hands. Looking around the room a question popped into her head, "How could he have gotten in past us?"

"Malcolm worked here, remember, there's probably shortcuts that aren't on the maps or blueprints that he knows about and we don't. And now we have no chance of finding," Wordy replied picking up one of the broken laptops, along the screen was long spider-webbed crack. "Spike's gonna be pissed."

"I'm pissed," Sam hissed looking over his shoulder to the team. He had taken guard by the door looking into the darkness for a sign of Malcolm or his missing friends. His gun raised and aimed into the darkness ready to take the shot. "What's with this guy anyway, it's like he's trying to wind us up."

"He's trying to get us angry, so we make mistakes?" Jules questioned.

"It's working," Sam said as he walked into the room, his gun now aimed at the floor as he joined the other around the turned over table.

"Suicide by cop," Wordy inputted.

"Guys," Ed said attracting their attention. Facts running though his head about the dimensions of the room realising that something wasn't correct about the room they stood. "It took us six minutes to get here and they were gone before we reached the room."

"We would have seen them if they went thought the door," Sam said pointing back to the door he had not so long ago been standing at.

"Working on the theory that he ambushed Spike while he was at the computer," Jules walked over to where the desk previously stood, facing the wall opposite the door. "He would have had to come from this side of the room."

"Am I the only one who found the way he treated Spike… odd?" Sam asked suddenly.

"It was strange," Jules added.

"_Guys, hate to rush you, but you have less than twenty-five minutes until the gas is released. Would you like me to call in back up?"_ Winnie asked disrupting their thought process. Not having the privilege of being present in the room, she couldn't help but create her own mental interpretation of the room by the team's reactions. Ed and Sam's use of swear words, Jules sudden intake of air, and Wordy's mutter of 'dear gosh' had her thinking the worse.

"No one will get here in time," Ed replied. "How many medics are outside?"

"_Three EMT's, one ambulance and a first responder, another ambulance is on route. I've had word there's round twelve people still unaccounted for,"_ Winnie replied, they could hear her typing at her computer as she spoke. _"Sar…Ed, uniforms are getting testy, I'm getting calls from very angry people asking me to relieve their officers."_

"Tell them the situation has progressed inside and we need them to keep the peace outside. And Winnie, call in a few more medics, we've got to get the other hostages out and we don't know what shape Greg and Spike will be in," Ed replied again, getting angrier and tired with each word. He knew that priority of life was working against him, but he also knew that were ever Spike and Greg were, so would Malcolm.

"Guys," Wordy waved them over to the wall he had walked up to, the only wall not to have anything electronic attached to it. "Look at this," he said pushing a blank of wood away from the wall revealing a pristine white corridor. "Think we've found how he got in and out of the room so quickly."

**End of Chapter**

**Next chapter may be up on Friday or next week.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Teamone4ever: **Thank you for taking the time to read and review, happy to hear it was cool.

**VBM:** Thank you, I wasn't sure if I had created an intriguing plot or not seen as it's been rewritten about seven times. *blushes* Thank you, I love hearing that my work is great.

**ShirleyTemple1932:** Thank you and your welcome. Oh I love reviews, especially ones that point out the best and worst parts of a chapter.

**MissScarlatti713:** Thank you. The whole problem with Spike is currently written on about eleven pages of paper getting ready to be written. Your wait is over, here's what happens…

**Mermers:** Thank you. Yes more peril for poor Spike, as if he doesn't get enough of it in the show. Yes, showing the teams feelings about Spike was fun to write although tricky.

**Kdj539:** Thank you. Nail bitter yes, mine have already gone. You also reminded me that I had forgotten to write something in, so hopefully you question will be answered here.

**-Chapter 3-**

"Be quiet and don't even think of doing anything stupid," Malcolm warned Greg and Spike as he re-cuffed them the chairs he had forced them into. Before being marched to the room they now found themselves in their hands had been tightly cuffed behind their backs, tighter for Spike than for Greg, using their own cuffs.

The room they were in now was bigger than the security room. According to the lettering on the glass window of the door this was the office of 'Paul White' the head of the White family and company. The room's decoration was much like the rest of the building, white floor, white walls, and anything else that could be white (or near to the colour) was. The table in the room looked antique and was now broken and stripped of its previous majestic glory due to the rough handling it had received.

Malcolm walked over to a blooded man in a black American cut suit complete with a blooded silk tie hanging loosely in a full Windsor knot around his neck. Greg could identify him as being Ben White. His hands and feet were tied together as he lay on his side on the floor.

"You think you can steal my wife!" He yelled at Ben, hitting him across the face with the side of the gun he held like a lifeline.

"I didn't," Ben sobbed, trying to curl into a ball on the floor.

"Malcolm," Greg said trying to get the man's attention away from the cowering man. "Is there anything that we can do to help resolve this situation?"

"Yea shut it!" Malcolm yelled pausing in his kicking in order to turn to the negotiator.

"Mal please?" the man begged, his head ducking between his chest and shoulders.

"I trusted you. I trusted you with everything and this is how you repay me. Greg, do you know what he did?" Malcolm asked turning a crazed look at Greg.

"No," Greg said voice flat and head shaking.

"He took my wife away from me. He killed my wife and framed me," Malcolm turned again and forcefully kicked Ben in the stomach. Repeating the action over and over until it appeared That Malcolm had knocked Ben out.

Malcolm walked over to one side of the room, muttering under his breath as he seemed to shut down on himself.

Greg watched him for a while noticing his breathing easing out and his movement slowing. He may have watched him for the duration of their captivity but then he heard the heard breathing next to him.

He noticed the similarities between Ben and Spike; their hair was similar in tone, the same could be said for their skin only Spike's complexion was currently lighter then Ben's, their facial features were almost the same with two emotive eyes and soft lips. They could have been separated at birth only Greg knew Spike only had one older brother.

He had once again forgotten about Spike and he slapped himself for it. He wasn't being a very caring team member at the moment least of all friend. He turned to look at Spike picking out all the detailed changes. He looked tired as if he were fighting to stay awake for weeks, a ring of bruises was forming around his neck and a quick glance at his hands showed how wounded they had become.

He had seen his friend in worse condition, seen him cry himself almost to sleep, seen him at one am standing on his door step asking if he could stay, he had seen the changed in his attitude after Lew's death and prayed that the normal Spike would bounce back since his appearance was a reminder of what they lost and the cost of the job.

"Hay Mike," Greg said softly using Spike's real name knowing that it would build a connection they already shared. Tilting his head so that he would be able to look at the other man and not attract any unwanted attention. When Spike looked up at him he asked, "You okay?"

"Sorry?" Spike replied unfocused, looking at Greg with foggy eyes.

"I'm worried about you Spike, we're all worried about you. You've not been yourself lately and I just want to make sure you're good."

"There's nothing's wrong with me boss," Spike said smiling slightly, the same smile that would normal put Greg's worries at ease but today only deepened them.

"Please Spike don't lie to me. Not about this. You can lie about not being responsible for gluing the fridge door shut, or filling Wordy's locker with toy frogs, turning my books upside down which I know you did. But please, please, don't lie to me about something as important as you." Greg begged with a small pleading smile on his face, his voice low and even.

"It's nothing really boss, just personal things," Spike said smiling reassuringly. "You know how home life can get. My brothers over on holiday for a few weeks which leaves me room-less, the sacrifices the youngest makes."

Greg couldn't help but laugh at this but then he looked into Spike's eyes and saw no humour in them. Giving him a small smile he asked, "Where are you staying?"

"A friend's got a big house and nobody to share it with."

"You sure that's…" Greg started but was interrupted by the sound of a gun firing.

Both SRU members quickly looked up at Malcolm and his outstretched hand a smoking gun settled neatly between the palm and fingers. "What the hell are you two doing?" he asked pushing himself up on his feet. Walking over he began gun stabbing the air as he continued to point it towards them he yelled at the two, "I told you to be quiet. I told you what I would do!"

"Malcolm, it was my fault…"

"Shut up!" Greg was stilled silenced as Malcolm reached them menacingly. "What did I tell you would happen? What did I say was the punishment?" He spat into Greg's face. His features were sharp, eyes as wild as swarm of bees with a little red of both anger and pain.

"You said you'd hurt Spike," Greg said slowly hating the words as they passed his lips.

Spike looked over at the two, seeing and hearing a scared Greg and the manic Malcolm, he knew that the already tense situation had gotten worse. He was able to prepare himself for what was to happen next, with all his might Malcolm sent Spike's chair plunging to the floor his head hitting the cold concrete carpet with a thud.

To Spike it seemed like Malcolm had lost what little control over his anger he had as his body was brutalised. He didn't feeling the first punch as much as he thought he should have which concerned him greatly. He felt the two harsh punches Malcolm delivered, with the force of a man who had spent days in a gym, to his right shoulder which sent his mind spinning in 360 directions. Then a fast slam onto his stomach from the heel of Malcolm's foot pushing the chair onto his cuffed hands, Spike could feel the already fragile skin bleeding more soaking his sleeves, as well assaulting one of his ribs.

What was only a few seconds felt like a few weeks to Spike. His head was aching, so was his whole upper body, and his eyes were unfocused as a blurred blob towered above him. Slowly the blur became a solid shape, the solid shape of Malcolm, as it lowered down to a kneeling position next to his on the floor.

Two cold and rough hands slowly snaked around Spike's throat reminding him of a time his father ran to him after he had fallen out of a tree. At first his father was so angry at him for being careless shaking him by his shoulder as if wanting to knock sense into to, but then the shacking stopped and the hands softly cupped his neck and then moved to his cheeks with the thumps caressing the soft skin. He knew that his dad was only scared, he would have been too if his five year old child had fallen seven feet from a tree branch, and was acting from that scare and meant no harm to him.

Today the hands around his throat meant to cause him harm. Slowly the hands began to push down on his throat pushing together the layers of muscle, skin, flesh, and his Adams apple forcing the air out of his body. Spike was startled when the thought came to him that he hadn't tried to fight back before now, as he tried to shrug his shoulders to dislodge the hands.

It wasn't working. As his eye's closed he swore he heard Greg's pleading voice.

"I told you that nothing would give me greater pleasure then to squeeze the life out of him!"

The white corridor led the team down a hallway and though a door opening to the buildings main reception. They wouldn't have known which way to go if they hadn't found a trail of blood drops leading them down the same corridor they had first walked when entering the building.

The discovery of the blood drops was troubling everyone. The first few drops wouldn't have bothered them much but after following the trail for a while, and as the small drops grew bigger and bigger, they couldn't help but think the worse.

"You think he's hurt them?" Sam asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

"Could be, but we didn't find any blood in the security room so the chances are it's someone else's," Ed said trying to reassure them all, including himself. "Malcolm's accelerating, he's taken two hostages, and he's already shown a tendency towards violence. Let's assume that he'll take any risks he can in order to escape. When we find him Sam and I will find Scorpio, Jules try to negotiate Wordy will cover you, Wordy use less lethal,"

"_Guys, I've spoken with the fire crew, they've asked for permission to access the basement," Winnie said, rushing her words in a professional tone, "They said they've found a way to help with the gas situation."_

"What do they need?" Ed asked, his hand raised and fingers balled into a fist in a halting gesture.

"_They need to be able to access the water supple in the basement, we've found a way that will re-route the gas to the higher levels, the ones that have been safely evacuated, but they have to work fast before the system starts the procedure."_

"Sam, Wordy head back to the basement and keep them covered, the last thing we need is Malcolm to get his hands on any more hostages. Once their finished come and find us, the way this guy is going we not looking at an easy take down," Ed began walking forward again, Jules behind him as Sam and Wordy walked ahead of them to the security room a few doors down, following the blood trail until it ceased to exist.

"Why didn't the people outside see them?" Jules asked looking over her shoulder at the door leading to the reception desk and entrance. "Winnie, can you tell what's ahead of us?"

"_Judging from the blue prints, the only thing ahead of you that is marked are storage rooms, photo developing, and overnight rooms. Ed word just in, Hillman's trial has been postponed due to evidence being lost, the gun used on his wife was taken from lock up."_

"Thanks Winnie," Jules said stopping abruptly while Ed continued. "What could he possibly be looking for down here, what would he risk getting caught for?"

"What you thinking Jules?" Ed walked the few steps towards her, his gun lowered while giving her an expression mixed with high tension and anger.

"The first thing he does when he gets here after being released from prison, he comes here and threatens White, White is still MIA. He said that White killed his wife and the weapon used in that crime is missing," Jules said her voice emphasising the last word.

"Winnie, what model was the gun!" Ed asked his voice rising as he spoke.

"_Revolver," _Winnie replied while typing at her computer,_ "descriptions vary but all are agree that it was a revolver."_

"_One of the witnesses said they saw a revolver," _Wordy said. He and Sam had reached the security room and was watching three firemen work on the sprinkler system while two others held down a large clutch that managed the gas levels.

"The blood was a distraction; he wanted us to find it so he could finish what he started without us getting in the way," Ed said as he and Jules turned around and started for the main reception.

"Winnie, direct us to White's office," Jules said jogging next to Ed.

**-End of Chapter-**

**That's the end of another chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter should be out on Wednesday or possible Friday.**

**Once again thank you to all who have reviewed and/or followed and favourite the story. **

**Please review, they help.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh wow. Twenty reviews after only three chapters you guys make me so happy. Thank you. For all the reviews, the faves, the follows, I adore each and every one of you who have shown some love for my work. **

**MissScarlatti713: **As it happens the only pranks out of the ones I mentions, the fridge is the only one I haven't pulled. If I did my parents would kill me and revive me just to kill me again. And thank you for the review.

**ShirleyTemple1932: **Well in one episode Spike mentioned being a good uncle (or something along those lines) and I thought that I'd give him an older brother, but how much does that older brother have to do with his problems. Thank you, being dyslexic I love hearing that my work is good (and getting gold stars).

**LibriAmici:** Hello. Thank you for popping by with your encouraging words. Even the little reviews count. Thank you for your review and here's the update.

**Guest**: Hello (again?). It's nice to hear that you like my story and thank you for the review. I will keep going even though some parts of the story are being a real pain to get written.

**-Chapter 4-**

The white corridor led the team down a hallway and though a door opening to the buildings main reception. They wouldn't have known which way to go if they hadn't found a trail of blood drops leading them down the same corridor they had first walked when entering the building.

The discovery of the blood drops was troubling everyone. The first few drops wouldn't have bothered them much but after following the trail for a while, and as the small drops grew bigger and bigger, they couldn't help but think the worse.

"You think he's hurt them?" Sam asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

"Could be, but we didn't find any blood in the security room so the chances are it's someone else's," Ed said trying to reassure them all, including himself. "Malcolm's accelerating, he's taken two hostages, and he's already shown a tendency towards violence. Let's assume that he'll take any risks he can in order to escape. When we find him Sam and I will find Scorpio, Jules try to negotiate Wordy will cover you, Wordy use less lethal,"

"_Guys, I've spoken with the fire crew, they've asked for permission to access the basement," Winnie said, rushing her words in a professional tone, "They said they've found a way to help with the gas situation."_

"What do they need?" Ed asked, his hand raised and fingers balled into a fist in a halting gesture.

"_They need to be able to access the water supple in the basement, we've found a way that will re-route the gas to the higher levels, the ones that have been safely evacuated, but they have to work fast before the system starts the procedure."_

"Sam, Wordy head back to the basement and keep them covered, the last thing we need is Malcolm to get his hands on any more hostages. Once their finished come and find us, the way this guy is going we not looking at an easy take down," Ed began walking forward again, Jules behind him as Sam and Wordy walked ahead of them to the security room a few doors down, following the blood trail until it ceased to exist.

"Why didn't the people outside see them?" Jules asked looking over her shoulder at the door leading to the reception desk and entrance. "Winnie, can you tell what's ahead of us?"

"_Judging from the blue prints, the only thing ahead of you that is marked are storage rooms, photo developing, and overnight rooms. Ed word just in, Hillman's trial has been postponed due to evidence being lost, the gun used on his wife was taken from lock up."_

"Thanks Winnie," Jules said stopping abruptly while Ed continued. "What could he possibly be looking for down here, what would he risk getting caught for?"

"What you thinking Jules?" Ed walked the few steps towards her, his gun lowered while giving her an expression mixed with high tension and anger.

"The first thing he does when he gets here after being released from prison, he comes here and threatens White, White is still MIA. He said that White killed his wife and the weapon used in that crime is missing," Jules said her voice emphasising the last word.

"Winnie, what model was the gun!" Ed asked his voice rising as he spoke.

"_Revolver," _Winnie replied while typing at her computer,_ "descriptions vary but all are affirmative that it was a revolver."_

"_One of the witnesses said they saw a revolver," _Wordy said. He and Sam had reached the security room and was watching three firemen work on the sprinkler system while two others held down a large clutch that managed the gas levels.

"The blood was a distraction; he wanted us to find it so he could finish what he started without us getting in the way," Ed said as he and Jules turned around and started for the main reception.

"Winnie, direct us to White's office," Jules said jogging next to Ed.

"I told you that nothing would give me greater pleasure then to squeeze the life out of him!" Malcolm hissed tightening his grip around Spike's throat.

Spike lay on the floor chocking on the pressure around his throat. His struggles were weak due to his deteriorated state. His lungs felt like the air had been taken away from the room to be replaced by fire as his throat burned from lake of oxygen, he thrashed his head from side to side struggling to dislodge the offending limps but, his hands moved in frantic motions behind his back scratching at the floor in desperation as his feet kicked out catching nothing.

His fight was in vain. Greg watched as the younger man's eyes began to fall, his fighting stopped, and his chest fell and hardly rose. "Don't punish him!" Greg yelled trying to save his friend before it was too late. "Punish me. I caused this he's not to blame, punish me!"

He thought that his words had no effect on Malcolm, but they must have since Malcolm removed his hands from Spike's pale throat to run though his hair as he backed away.

Malcolm rose and moved behind Greg, reaching in his pocket to retrieve a key he used to unlock the cuffs and pushed Greg out of the chair. "That was punishing you," he said monotone. "When you have to watch someone you care about die in front of you, knowing you could have done something to stop the situation, that's punishment. He's going to be fine in a while, but you might want to keep a check on his breathing."

Greg's momentary shock was gone. He crawled over to a still Spike ignoring the pain running though his wrists. Once he reached Spike, he placed two fingers on his neck while his other hand cupped Spikes cold check, "Oh Spike," he said softly regretting the events of the past year. Events that he couldn't have changed yet felt all the guilt over, "I'm sorry."

Carefully he moved his hand from Spike's cheek to his shoulder, gently shaking it to arouse him, "Spike," he said just as softly. But he got no reaction from the other man, "Michelangelo! You need to wake up."

Weakly Spike stirred, his head swaying from side to side, "Don't," he whimpered flinching away from Greg's hands.

Greg's heart skipped as the scared words passed Spikes lips.

"Please don't?"

"Sp…Spike," he stuttered. To see Spike in such distress pulled at his heart strings, "Who's hurting you Spike."

While his concentration was solely focused on Spike, Greg missed Malcolm mimicking his actions with Ben. Only his actions were rougher and less caring, he slapped Ben's face to awaken him trying to awaken him.

"Wake up!" he yelled already pulling a groggy Ben to his feet. "We still have a matter to finish." Ben stumbled as Malcolm pulled him out of the room Ben stumbled as Malcolm pulled him out of the room, stopping at the door to throw Greg the keys he was still holding, "You'll need this." With that he left the room.

Greg instantly grabbed the keys that landed by his chair, he slowly rolled Spike onto his side so he could reach Spikes wrists.

After the cuffs were unlocked, and Greg had thrown the offensive metal away, he gently rolled Spike on to his back only to be shocked by the stillness of his chest. He put his fingers to Spike's neck, he checked Spike's breathing but no air was hitting his hand.

**End of Chapter**

**Out of these titles, which one would you like me to focus on next: (We) Remember Everything, Sell Your Soul, Playground School Bell. Let me know in your review or PM. **

**Next chapter will be in the latter half of next week.**

**Please review, they help. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry, sorry, sorry, I know it's way past the time I said I would update but I've had a hard time writing this chapter up. It's been a complete and utter hazard zone around because of the stupid thing we call writers block. **

**Annerinker: thank you for your review and for your vote. Remember Everything has got the most written but not sure when I should start posting. And thank you for the PM it's what pushed me to get this done.**

**BoyyM: Thank you for your review and your vote. Sorry I kept yall hanging with Spike and Greg I've tried to make their 'rescue' realistic but it was really hard to make it look real and both dramatic. **

**Buckeye: Hello and thanks for the vote. Sorry for the wait, hope you still want the chapter. **

**Guest: Heres the chapter, sorry I wasn't as fast as you'd hope. **

**Angelindsyney: We're getting closer to the revelation of who's the one hurting Spike, two chapters away I think, but you've still gotta little wait. Thank you for both the review and the wishes. **

**Guest (2): Here's whats happening next. Very short and I'm still not happy with it. I may come back later and change things around but I thought I've kept you waiting for long enough. **

**Mermers: My evil plan is working. I'd love to hear your thoughts on whose hurting him. It always intrigues me. Maybe the evidence you need is in this chapter. Two votes for Remember Everything so far it's winning.**

**EalasaidUna: You may be right about Jules blaming herself. Thank you for the review**

**Guest (3): thank you. I'm glad you like the story so far, I wasn't sure if I was pulling of the suspense element very well.**

**-Chapter Five-**

Wordy watched as the three fire fighters packed up their equipment and prepared to leave. The work they had done looked complicating, so complicating to Wordy that he had his doubts about its effectiveness, "You sure this will work?" He asked of Clint the head of the three man team.

"It should, if the information we have is correct, the gas would be ordinarily be released by the sprinkler system. By forcing the gas cylinders closed the only thing it has access to is the water supply, so all we had to do is give the sprinklers back the job they were designed for." Clint was an ordinary man; he too had a wife and two children, a boy and girl, he was the owner of a seven year old greyhound named Amanda, lived in a quiet little road smothered by the hectic lifestyles of growing families. He had been a fire-fighter for nearly twenty years, but due to his ailing health would soon be forced to leave.

Wordy understood his aggression towards the idea, he didn't know what he would do if he was forced out of the job that he loved so much.

The fire-fighters team had worked for just over fifth-teen minutes, quickly and effectively in a melodic rhythm of pipes and tanks crashing together or grinding against unwanted rust they had managed to solve some of their problems, they hoped.

"Be prepared for a shower," Jake the youngest of the three men joked as he swung a bag over his shoulder and moved to stand by Sam at the threshold of the door.

"Thank you," Sam said offering his hand to the third man who he had been working closely with.

"Us uniforms have to stick together don't we," he said shaking Sam's hand.

"We ready to move?" Wordy asked as he moved to the head of the group.

"Ready and waiting," Clint said joining his two men by the door. "Same way we came?"

"Same way we came," Sam repeated both determination and aggression in his voice.

Together they walked, in silence, looking down the dark corridors in search of any movement.

It was when they reached the door that they heard Ed and Jules's voices.

"_Sam, Wordy, we're going to need you back here,"_ Ed said over the radio, his voice low near to a whisper. _"We're looking at a hostage situation."_

"Jules, Ed what's going on?" Sam asked, Wordy walking up behind him after opening the door for the fire-fighters.

Quietly Jules and Ed followed Winnie's directions though the corridors of the building. They had heard the fire fighters telling Wordy and Sam what they should expect, they had asked Winnie to alter the countdown, and then they had found it.

At the fresh hold of Ben Whites office they found the body, they heard the shouting inside, and then as they stepped into the room they saw the seen before them.

Spike lay on the floor near a wall, from their angle it didn't look like he was breathing or moving, an overturned chair beside him. Greg was standing in front a man aiming a gun at his head, blood coming from a gash on the side of his hidden face.

Ed stepped back out of the room and knelt down beside the body at his feet, he turned it onto its back to reveal the face. Malcolm. The man holding a gun to Greg in shaking hands was Ben White.

"Sam, Wordy, we're going to need you back here," Ed said to their two missing team members in a near whispered tone.

"_Jules, Ed what's going on?"_ Sam asked, Wordy walking up behind him after opening the door for the fire-fighters.

"We're looking at a hostage situation," Ed said looking over Jules.

Ben was swaying on his feet, his hand unconsciously rising to his face, "I'm sorry," he whispered to Greg. "I didn't mean to kill her…"

"Ben hand me the gun and we can get outa here. My friend, Spike, he needs help. He needs us to get him help. Ben look at him," Greg said pointing over to Spike on the floor. "Please, Ben let me get him help."

A loud beep erupted over the buildings sound system, "Guys, that's the 60 second warning."

The beep not only startled the team, but also made Ben jump out of his skin. Ben turned around quickly on the spot which was enough time for Greg to grab the gun from Ben's loose fingers.

Ed and Jules quickly came up behind him to deal with Ben as Greg turned and moved quickly to Spike. "What was that?" he asked as he reached Spike's prone body.

"A warning," Ed informed him as he cuffed Ben's hands together, not tight enough to cause the frightened young man any pain but enough that would subdue him. He glanced over at Greg who was pulling Spike of off the ground. "1422, hostage turns aggressive, Subject Malcolm Hillman found deceased, Ben White in custody."

"_Ed we're almost there," _Wordy informed him.

"Greg, can you move?" Ed asked lifting a sobbing Ben to his feet.

"_Three, Two, one,"_ as Winnie said the last symbol the sprinklers began to turn. As they twisted water began to drip, at first at a steady leak, the sort you'd get from a loose tap, then as the twisting began to become quicker so did the volume of water.

"Winnie, inform the EMT's what to expect, one dead, one unresponsive. Greg how's Spike?" Ed asked the water hitting his head and drenching his clothing.

"He's stopped breathing again."

"_He's stopped breathing again,"_ Greg said panic evident in his voice. _"Come on! Don't give up like this!"_

Winnie stilled. "Again," she repeated in a voice barely there. _'Again, how many times has he stopped breathing?' _she asked herself.

A crowd had gathered around her desk, looking between her, the computer screen, and many places of the walls.

Her chest felt like it was tightening. She loved the team, the whole team, they had such great family bounds. Ed and Greg where like the father figures, Jules the caring sister, Sam the protective brother, Wordy was the relative you'd speak with when you couldn't talk to your immediate family about a problem, and Spike was the young brother. The brother who would always be making jokes and you knew no matter the problem he'd be there for you with a hug and a smile.

Her 'family' went out every day to protect people, to keep the peace, and each day she'd be left behind waiting and listening to them.

She had been sat here, feeling much the same, a few weeks ago listening. Listening to Spike's heart breaking scream of angst. Listening to muffled Jules crying. Listening to Greg's words to Spike the phrase 'it'll be okay' repeated over and over.

She hated it. Hated being left behind scared to death one of them wouldn't come back from a 'Hot Call'. Hated it each time she had to say those two stupidly small words made felt so large in her throat.

Most the time she never got the full picture of what happened. She still didn't know what happened to Lew. She'd been told that he fell, that he stepped off, that the bomb had a detonator. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know. If living under a veil helped her sleep at night she'd gratefully live under that veil.

"_What's happened?"_ She heard Sam asked out of breath. He and Wordy must have ran the majority of the distance from the front door to the office.

"_Come on Spike," _Jules was sniffling.

'_What was happening in that room?'_

She pressed a button on her landline that connected her with the ambulance service, two rings later someone answered.

"_Emergency services, medical response unit how can I help?"_ Frank answered. He, like her, was left behind a desk and given the task to send of his friends to danger.

"It's Winnie from SRU, can you patch me through to the responses at the White building?"

"_Will do, how's our boys?" _

"Not looking good," she said regretfully.

"_Zoe, Diana, Winnie SRU," _Frank said followed by a click as Winnie was patched into the radios of the EMT's closer to her friends then she was.

"_SRU what are we looking at?" _One of them answered in an authoritative voice.

"We've got two men needing assistance, one is moving and talking and the other isn't breathing," the word made her sick. She could hear the others around her talking to each other. "They're at the back of the ground floor. The sprinkler system is going off and will end in twenty seconds."

"_What condition is the man who's not breathing in?"_ a kinder voice asked her.

"I'm not sure," she confessed feeling like she was talking with mother.

"_Zoe, get the stretcher ready. We've been given the directions already Winnie, tell your team we're on our way."_

"Ed, did you get that?" she asked. While she spoke over the phone she had tried not to listen to the teams conversation. Jules and Greg seemed to be ordering Spike around, Wordy and Sam had been silent, while Ed muttered words under his breath.

"_Yea,"_ Ed replied quickly.

"_No!"_ she knew that voice. Had wanted to hear it for half an hour, the worst half hour of her life, but now she wished she hadn't. It was harsh and scared, begging them for help with just a small word.

"Spike."

"_His name is Spike. He's only just come around. He was finding it hard to breath earlier, strangled and beaten,"_ she heard Greg telling, she assumed, the EMTs. _"He's also been delirious."_

'_Delirious?' _she asked herself. She had been worried about Spike for a few days now, ever since he had walked into work practically in tears, and with each new day her fear was growing more and more.

"Who's hurting you Spike?" she asked.

"_Winnie, call Spike's next of kin," _Ed ordered her. If there was anything that she disliked about him, was he neglected to ask her to do something politely instead he would demand. _"Their taking him to the hospital."_

**-End of Chapter-**

**The trouble with writers block is that it starys for way too long but, she says hiding behind the couch, I should be able to get the next chapter up some point next week. It's mostly written up just needs some changes here and there. **

**Please review, they help. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry, sorry, sorry. I wanted to get this chapter out two weeks ago and so many different things came out of the blue and other things crept up slowly that I got distracted with. **

**But now it's here for your reading pleasure. **

**Also I just want to show my gratitude to everyone who has said in their reviews how much they love this fic. You have no idea how much those reviews have meant to me. I find myself looking at them when I'm feeling down and the fact that people appreciate my hard work is so uplifting. **

**Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. **

**I love everyone's theory's about who could possibly be hurting Spike. I'm not going to give away any plot detail but I'm will say that one of you are so close. Also thank you to the people who commented on the relationship between Spike and Greg. I've tried really hard to write everyone realistically so I keep remembering what Greg said at the end of Slow Burn. 'Ti voglio bene come se tu fossi il mio figlio'. **

**Oh and to all the people who have given me hints on dealing with Writers Block. Thank you. I tried each of them, seriously I did, and they work.**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own the show. I own original characters and the computer I'm typing on. Only joking. My mum and dad technically own the laptop I just use it. **

**-Chapter 6-**

**Friday 20****th**

Albert Hacker had spent far too much of his life encased in small rooms. He was born in a bus shelter when his mother went into premature labour. He had been schooled in rooms no bigger than a cleaning closet and the gardens of the school. In the various jobs he had collected during his life, he had spent most of them pushing paper in a small room or a cubical.

But thanks to those small rooms he had met a handful of good people who he had had the pleasure of calling friend.

The young man who he currently shared this particular small room with today was troubling him.

Ever since he had been wheeled into the room by the nurse and the porter, the young man had a troubled look on his paled face, which illuminated the formed bruises. As he dreamed he would occasionally moan in pain and hug his stomach like a child fearing his first nightmare.

"No!" the troubled young man whimpered, his head turning to one side as tears slid down his face. His breathing started to become more laboured while his hand gripped his stomach tighter. "No! Please?"

"Hay Kid," he said as he swinging his legs over the metal bed frame in order for him to stand. He had faced these types of nightmare with his own children and knew how serious they could become. Taking two steps to reach the other bed, he reached out his hand to the young man's shoulder and slightly shook it in a fatherly way, "Wake up kid, you're just having a bad dream. There's nothing to be scared of here."

The troubled man's eyes blinked a few times before opening fully. His heavy breath slowly returned to normal.

"Where am I?" he asked after taking a moment to compose himself.

"Hospital," Albert told the young man. "You look like you've just come home from a hell," he pointed to the bruises he could see making the young man shift uncomfortable on the bed. Instantly the worst case scenario flashed though his mind, but then he saw the young man's eyes.

Two bright powerful brown irises burned with compassion and love but hidden deep was pain, too much pain for a man of his age, pain that was not only of the physical kind but emotional too. His eyes weren't the eyes of a man who would try to end their life but the kind that would fight for someone else's.

"Just doing my job," The young man told him a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

"If I had your job Kid I'd ring in sick," Albert chuckled as he returned to his own bed. Before he managed to sit down he began to cough viciously, so vicious that the only thing keeping him on his feet was his vice like grip on the railing.

The young man pushed himself further up on the bed ignoring the pain bursting in wild glee over his body. Barely audio-able he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Truth, Kid?" Albert said breathless once the coughing had subsided.

"You can call me Spike," Spike informed him with a smile.

Albert carefully pushed himself up onto the bed, turning he looked at Spike smiling in encouragement. "What does your mother call you?"

"Mikey most the time," Spike said returning the smile. He had a feeling his smile looked fake on his face, it felt fake on his face, be he felt calmed in the kind man's presence.

"It's nice to meet you Mikey. My name is Albert Charles Hacker."

"Hello Albert," Spike said reaching out his hand, "and please the truth."

"My lungs are quitting on me, Mikey. Not got long left for me," Albert looked over to the window. On the ledge there was a small bird's nest with a robin sitting comfortable in the centre. The robin flapped his wings and jumped from the ledge flying into the sky to provide for its nesting offspring.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. My mistakes that got me here weren't it. I drank too much, smoke too much, slept too little, and I didn't listen when people tried to tell me that I was putting my health at risk. Nar I've gambled with my heart in more ways than one kid and look where it's landed me."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Albert looked over at him his face taking a determined feature, "There is kid, you be sure not to make my mistakes." He swung his legs over the bed again pointing his finger at Spike, "You'll always need the ones who care for you the most, don't go pushing them away like I did. No matter what happens, you need them in your life. You got a problem you tell them before it gets worse."

"I don't think I can Albert," Spike confessed, looking down at his hands as they tapped a nervous tone on his lap. The index finger would tap twice, the middle finger would tap twice, the wedding finger would tap twice, the pinkie finger would tap twice, and then the rhythm would repeat back to the index.

"Maybe you could tell a stranger Mikey. That tension going to squash you if you don't," Albert said looking at Spike in the eye.

"It's not that simple," Spike whispered.

"Take your time, Kid, just take your time."

"I lost…" Spike paused, his face downcast and his voice cracking as he tried to breath past the ache in his chest, "I lost my friend recently. A few days after the…" he cleared his throat and looked at the floor as if trying to burn a hole into the titles. "After his funeral someone came back into my life and… I wanted to help them but I'm only making things worse. "

If there was one thing Albert was good at, it was reading people's eyes. It was a skill he had picked up when he worked in a back, when you needed to decided who would get the money between one person and another you could look into their eyes and listen to their pleas. He looked in this young man's eyes and he saw pain, he saw fear and he saw hate.

"I should be able to help! I can help absolute strangers but not who I care about," he berated himself, his words coming out as a combination of a man who had cried his whole life and one who had never stopped screaming, a man who'd been broken. "I'm sorry but I can't."

"It's okay kid." Albert looked at the bird who had returned to its nest, "Hay Mikey, you can tell me to mind my own business, what type of job would leave you with those?" he asked pointing to the exposed bruises.

"I'm with the SRU," he said truly smiling for the first time in a while, "I got caught up in a hostage situation."

"It must scare you're mother?"

"You have no idea." Spike laughed humourlessly. "What do you do?"

"I'm retired, gardening and readings about all I do now. Before that I worked behind a metal box as a demolition man. You know, I dismantled bombs to see how they tick. My family hated it.

Spike began to laugh and for the first time, in a long time, he felt momentarily happy.

The Goose was radiating in sound. People talking and laughing loudly about their weekend plans over the blaring music while glasses clicked together while chairs grinded against the floor, pool-cubes rebounding off one another as competitions roared, but in one corner silence rained down.

The team, minus two, sat in silence as more pieces of an incomplete puzzle shifted into place. They had each walked to the table with pieces of that puzzle that once shared only formed the image on the box, not the solution.

It was the end of a slow day, which was part of a long week, and the team had decided upon a wind down drink. But none of them could wind down once they started talking.

Their night had started light-hearted and upbeat. As the evening progressed and the each held a second bottle of beer they began to contemplate the previous day's events.

They were talking about who would best be best suited to watch over a concussed Spike. His Doctors had told them that because of the abuse to his body he had a severe concussion that, although serious, they couldn't help him in the hospital. At least that is what the doctors had been saying; the fact was because of the weather conditions the hospital staff was getting stretched to their limits.

Ed and Greg had spoken to the doctors and they had learnt some interesting news. Ed relayed that information to the team, "The doctors say that he's been taking them for a while now. It explains why he was delirious yesterday," He finished looking grimly at his bottle of beer as a drop of water slipped down the spine.

"It doesn't make sense," Wordy said shocked that they had missed something like this, "why would Spike be taking anti-depressants?"

The doctor who was looking after Spike, Mister Richard Scott a surgeon who specialised in head truma, had order tests to be run to investigate what could have caused Spike's delirious behave. It turned out that that a drug named Citalopram, a type of antidepressant, was present in his blood stream. In addition they found an unidentified drug that could have explained his sate the day before,

"It's also used for sleeping problems, it helps resolve them and cause them," Sam added with a knowing smirk. When he had returned the first time from Iraq his doctor had prescribed him sleeping tablets to help with the change. They only helped to hinder his problems. "Besides, after what he's been through it's not surprising that he's turned to something for help. I know I would."

"It doesn't sound like Spike," Jules said in his defence. She understood what Sam meant, she at times had felt the pressures of the job, but the idea of her happy and joking friend needing drugs to help him scared her, almost as much as finding those bruises on his body, "He would have said something. He notices when we're hurting but we've…" she trailed of remembering her promise.

The door opened and in walked Luke and Robin. The two had been friends since they were five years old. Luke owned a shop around the corner and always had a friendly smile and advice for those who needed it. Robin was a trainee nurse at the local doctor's surgery and she, like Luke, was friendly and helpful. The two would do anything to help the other no matter what the cost to themselves. They were an inspiration for many.

Their dedication to each other was what pushed Jules to reconsider her promise.

"I promised Spike I wouldn't say anything but," she collected her thoughts. "I saw some bruises on Spike. At first I thought they were self-inflicted but I but then I looked closer. Someone had been clawing at his skin. I think someone has been abusing Spike."

The men at the table stilled. The sound abruptly loss from the room that once vibrated the floors. Dealing with the abused and abusers was something they had to deal with as part of their jobs. None of them liked that side, especially when it came to a parent and child.

"Who do you think it could be?" Sam asked. Their drinks had been forgotten. Any thought of relaxing before the weekend, forgotten. What wasn't forgotten was that their friend was hurting and they needed to help him. Even if their friend didn't know about it.

"He told me a few days ago he wasn't comfortable living at home at the moment," Wordy added.

He and Spike were the only two in the locker room. Spike had yawned as he fell onto the bench.

_He and Spike were the only ones in the locker room. He was placing his laundry into his sports bag so they could be washed and not leave an uncomfortable smell lingering in the air. _

_Spike yawned and dropped onto the bench. He ran his hands though his hair and then looked at the flag in his locker. _

"_You alright buddy?" he asked pushing the last shirt into the bag._

"_Depends on your definition of alright," Spike replied in a flat voice. The voice that, before that moment, Wordy hadn't realised had become Spike's tone._

"_You wanna come over for dinner? The girls really want to hear the end of that story you were telling them," he laughed remembering the girls begging him to drag Spike around. At their last team meal Victoria and Rebecca were unwell and couldn't join in with the games they were all playing, in order to cheer them up Spike had started to tell them the story of a robot named BabyCakes who wanted desperately to become human. _

"_I think I'll pass. While my brother and sister are in the same time zone as the rest of us, Ma needs more help in the kitchen." _

"_You sure, it's pasta night," he smiled, happy to see that Spike too was smiling. "You know how much you like to criticize my pasta dishes."_

"_Are you bribing a police officer," he joked standing before his locker. "Narr it's fine. Another time, I promise. I may even cook for you."_

"_Okay have it your way." He laughed closing his locker with a smile as he turned to the door, "just don't complain when I become a better cook than you." _

"_You ever think what you'd would be like if you never meet Shelly?" Spike asked suddenly. His face was down cast as he began to study the scuff marks on the locker room tiles. _

_Stunned by his sudden question Wordy took a moment to think. "I don't know. I can't say I've ever thought about not being with Shelly. I love her."_

"_Sometimes I think about how my parents would have been happier if I hadn't," he stopped abruptly. He stood and closed his locker looking "Nevermind. I'm sorry I asked. Being under the same roof with the whole family again brings things back. It's a bit uncomfortable."_

_And they left it at that. Wordy smiled at Spike, picked up his bags, and left the room letting the conversation fall from his mind._

Ed's phone began to ring drawing Wordy out of the memory.

"Hay, everything alright?" He listened for a while, and then his face fell and turned grave. "Greg slow down. What do you mean he's gone?"

The call lasted only a few minutes that felt weighty, as if the minutes hand had turned into the hour hand without letting anyone know. For three minutes the team watched Ed take in whatever news Greg was telling him. They could only think of the worst case scenario.

He closed the phone and placed it back on the table with his hand still holding it. He looked down and breathed deeply.

"Ed what's happened?" Jules asked leaning forward.

"Spike's been kidnapped.

**-End Of Chapter-**

**I'll try not to make it such a wait next time. **


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the delay in updating. I've been going through some stuff and not to mention exams are coming up so I've been spending a lot of time revising.

Rehabilitated Sith: Thank you ever so much for reviewing. I'm so happy you find it interesting.

Hope06: Thank you for you wonderfully inspiring words. It means a lot to me that people think I have managed to get the characters down.

Oxymoron'sRus: I'm happy you love it. I'm hoping you enjoy the Spike moment.

Gryffen: I'm sure everyone will be happy to know I have no intention of abandoning this story. Also about tackling a story line like this has been hard and at times disturbing. I'm trying not to make the story too dark, but from my experience mental disorders can be dark for everyone involved both the one with the illness and the ones who love them. And thank you for the for the Zimmer hint, I love his work and it has helped. And being Scottish myself I have taken notice of your order.

Mermers: Oh I do enjoy reading people's ideas about who could possibly be hurting Spike, I'm trying to keep it an enigma for as long as I can. Thank you for your kind words, I will try not to let my fretting about not posting affect me too much. It always troubles me to think I'm keeping you all in suspense for too long.

Squidgy78: Thank you, I hope you got my review.

Missscarlatti713: snap indeed. I fill bad for all the hurt I am putting poor spike though. And you are right, he can't seem to catch a break can he?

Ealasaid Una: some of your questions will be answered in this chapter below. And thank you for reviewing.

Truck81: Breath please. Breathing is good. If you scream too much your lungs will hurt and I wouldn't like that to happen.

Annerinker: Yes poor Spike. I too hope they find him soon. Thank you for reviewing.

Buckeye am I: I know, kidnapping is a bit of a melodramatic thing to do, but it serves a purpose. I shall leave the rest of my feedback to your review like this…

**-Chapter Seven-**

A cold wind kissed his pale skin as a sudden tingling sensation spread over his body. He tried to lift his head but a rush of vertigo pulled him further onto the wet sickly pillow. He lay on his side, a cold damp feeling spreading across his side.

Something felt wrong, he felt something wrong within himself. Pain that he couldn't understand was spreading over him competing with the cold sensation. He mind was clouding over with a light he felt he should look away from.

A hand caressed his check which burned with icy heat. A voice drifted into his muddled mind, a voice that was delicate with hate, cracking with desperation, weeping with pain. A voice he recognised, a voice he loved, but knew he had to fear.

"I'm sorry," a hurried breath tickled his hair as a kissed replaced the hand. "They told me not to trust you. They said you'd do exactly what the others did to me. I thought you'd be different. I wanted you to be different. I wanted you to love me, not them."

There was no pain as his skin tore with a sudden scratch. The only feeling was the coldness he was yearning to escape from.

"I'm sorry," the figure said.

Slowly a building pin-brick of pain spread from his side and over his body. As the ache began to overtake his senses panic and confusion began to rise in his mind. Pain so sudden it felt like he felt like his burning spiders were crawling over his body. He knew what it felt like when your body was going into shock, he'd been through it before, but it felt different. He knew he had to make a choice to let the pain pull him into a darkness or to fight it back.

"I love you," the voice said as the darkness pulled at his eye lids.

The last sensation he felt was a soft hand caressing his check.

* * *

The pain of grief was a feeling he was becoming to know far too accomplished with. He had watched the footage several times which only served to deepen his fear. Each time he reviewed the footage the same result portrayed itself in front of him.

A doctor talking to a nurse as the two walked through the hall together. A nurse pushing a man seated in a wheelchair smiling as they turned the corner and out of frame.

A family of four in different states of grief sat in front of a room. The mother crying into the hair of her child whose head was buried into her chest hugging his mother tightly. The father stood against the wall rocking a sleeping girl with blonde pig tails fighting back his own emotions.

A women sitting on a chair inside one of the privet rooms reading aloud 'Much Ado About Nothing' to her sleeping sister. A lone woman walking back and forth in front of the door his attention was focused on.

He watched the distressed women walk pass the door again and again until a sudden look of determination featured on her face and she opened the door.

Spike's roommate, Albert defined her as simply 'discombobulated'. He described her face was a mixture of confusion and desperation, her posture as rash and unconnected. He said that the moment Spike saw her they both became uncomfortable and a sudden wave of claustrophobia. After a short conversation between Spike and the women, when in the women became very angry, she attacked Spike with a syringe. He had tried to help to help Spike but he had only managed to fall out of his bed and land on his awkwardly on his arm.

Twenty minutes after entering the room she is walking out with an unconscious Spike seated in a wheelchair.

Before he had left the room that Albert was being treated in, Albert turned around to Greg and told him in a confident tone, "He trusts you. You'll find him."

He couldn't help but think that his confidence was premature given the current state his mind was in. He wanted to believe that they could find Spike alive, but the same feeling that settled in his gut the day they lost Lew was haunting him.

They had been able to get a clean screenshot of the women's face before she disappeared down the hall. After sending the image to the rest of the team and thanking the security guards for their assistance and left the building. He had been though every ounce of CCTV footage the hospital had to offer.

He apologised to Garry, the guard to initially informed him of Spike's abduction, for his outburst when they first meet. Garry had turned around and said, "I hope you find him," which once again caused his chest to tighten.

He was on his way to meet Wordy and Sam, who had arrived at the hospital shortly after he had finished talking with Albert, who were searching around the hospital for any sigh of the women and/or Spike, so far neither had been seen. The hope that they'd be able to find the two of them on hospital grounds but after twenty minutes of searching.

Jules had gone to Spike's home to speak with his family, hoping to catch them before they left, he had not heard from her so he hoped she was making progress.

Ed had gone to HQ to get any equipment they may need. He knew that it was one of Ed's coping mechanisms. When one of them were in trouble he needed to be able to protect them. Having the tools that would help them, should the situation become drastic, was both comforting and disturbing.

His phone rang and for a brief moment he let himself believe it was Spike, "Yes?" he said almost too quickly.

"Sir…"

"Winne? Have you found something?"

After a long pause, and several deep breaths, Winne said "Spike's badge was just found at the scene of a fire!"

**-To Be Continued-**

**Sorry if it seemed a little rushed. I wanted to get it out quick. **

**I would very much like to thank each and every one of you who have favoured, reviewed and added this story to you alerts. Each time I'm feeling low or need some encouragement to write I come back and read your spectacular reviews and they warm my heart. Thank you. **

**Please review, they help. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning: mentions of abuse and mental illness. If you struggle with these please skip the first half of this chapter. **

**Please enjoy and read at your own risk.**

**-Chapter Eight-**

He spent the remaining hours of the evening in the company of fear. As it slipped into the early hours of night anxiety joined them.

Fear crept into their hearts like a child creeping into their parent's room seeking solace from a nightmare.

The early reports from the Fire investigation team had revealed no body, which brightened their spirits slightly, they believed that their friend couldn't have been taken by the clutches of hungry flames.

They had been given very few answers to their questions. Spike's brother and sister were able to identify their suspect, from the photograph Greg had sent the team, as an old family friend named Bridget Hall. Spike had dated her for a while after they had left college but fell out of contact when their careers picked up.

After sending out a bolo for Bridget Hall, Winnie had started researching Bridget's background, from what little they had found they were troubled.

After sending out a bolo for Bridget Hall, Winnie had started researching her background. Hall was a nurse on suspension following an accusation she may have killed a brain dead patient 'out of mercy'. In 1998, age twenty-six, she was arrested for spousal abuse but later released after her then boyfriend, a twenty-five year old Michelangelo Scarlatti, refused to press charges. She had been a suspect in the disappearance of another of her boyfriends, Andrew Jones, whose body was later found at the steps of his childhood home arms crossed over his chest, cause of death was a single stab wound to his lower stomach. Officers were unable to find enough evidence to prove she was the murderer and the case remains cold.

At the thought that Spike, sweet loveable Spike, had been in an abusive relationship had sent bile to rise in his throat. But when he thought that he could have returned to said abuser, he wasn't sure how to react. Angry at Spike, angry at Bridget, angry at himself.

Detective Stainton had called him saying two uniforms had brought Bridget Hall in for disorderly conduct. She had been found in the parking lot of a university coated in blood crying out for Spike.

"Thought you might want to talk to her," Stainton said as he led Greg to the room they were holding Bridget inn. "She's clamed up I'm afraid. No one's been able to get a word out of her."

"Thank you Inspector," Greg said. At times he and the Inspector putted heads over a situation, he trusted the man with his and the lives of those in his team.

"Just find that boy," was Stainton's reply as Greg entered the room.

He took the seat opposite from Bridget, whose head was bowed and eyes fixed on her intertwined fingers. The minute he saw her in person flashes from the past infiltrated his mind. She was the women from Lew and Spike's holiday photos.

He looked at her now, trying not to think who the blood coating her nurses uniform could belong too. She looked different from the women he had spotted in the photos. She looked lost he noted as she raised her head to look at him.

After a few seconds of silence she began talking quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt him." her voice as soft as a silk on skin, "Sometimes I don't know what I've done until it's over. And he never fought back. He never stopped me!"

Greg nodded his head listening to her closely. He was happy that she had started talking without the need for him to promote her. It meant they might find Spike quicker before…

"I helped him after. I gave him something to manage the pain. I was always careful, enough to help him but not hurt him. Two mg of Citalopram and Melatonin to help him, we give it to the patience's at work and it helps them."

A piece of the puzzle slipped into place. In Spike's medical report two drugs, melatonin used to help induce natural sleep and citalopram was used as an anti-depressant, had been found which were not in Spike's file under medical. Bridget must have been the one to give him the drugs to help cope with her actions towards him and Lew's death.

"They told me to get rid of him," she said leaning closer to Greg, "I hate listening to them. But they wouldn't stop. They kept telling me to hurt him more. I had to hurt him. But I left him with Lew, Lew would know how to help him."

"Who are they Bridget, who told you to hurt him?" Greg asked. His hand on the table between them as he leaned in closer, tapping slightly in rhythm with her feet tapping, his question was given no reply so he turned his questions back to the answer he wanted more, "Where did you leave him Bridget? Did you leave Mike at Lew's house?"

At the mention of his name Bridget fell apart. Her face demolished into a pale feature of desperation as a singular tear slipped down her face followed closely by its kin. She feel forward onto the table clutching Greg's hand, "Mike! Have you seen Mike? I was with him… we were talking a…and…and now he's gone. I need to find him, please; they want to take him away from me. They've been telling him lies. I need to protect him."

Greg pulled his hands away from her, letting her upper body fall forward in a heap crying into her sleeves. He knew he should stay, knew he would ordinarily stay if this was any other call, but they needed quick answers. He joined Inspector Stainton outside of the room.

Kicking the wall with anger flooded his mind. When on a case that involved a missing family member he allowed the family members to shout and kick, to get the anger flooding their system out. And right now all he could think of was how much time they had lost talking with Bridget.

The only clue they had as to where Spike could be was Lew, the probability of the blood covering Bridget's uniform belonging to Spike was high, and the temperature was dropping as the night got longer.

"I was just thinking. She was found at that college, the one that Young died at. Could he be there?" Stainton asked.

"Hollowware Technical College." Greg asked quickly and paled as Stainton nodded his head. "Oh shit," he muttered turning and heading towards the exit. He raised one hand in thanks to the Inspector as the other reached into his pocket. "Eddie, he's at the college."

/-/-/-/-\\-\\-\\-\\

The campus was large and covered in snow. Some sections had been closed off due to the explosion and other parts were out of reach. They had teams working inside the building, uniforms' who arrived before they had, Greg thought it was a waste of time knowing that Bridget wouldn't have been able to gain access.

They had split into three groups, Sam with Wordy, Winnie with Jules, and He and Ed each splitting up to cover the front of the college quickly while Uniforms searched behind the building.

He had walked close the blast zone, which was still cornered off with tape, with a slight wish that they would find Spike there. Bridget had said she left Spike with Lew, he guessed she had chosen the college because it where Lew had died, and he hoped that the sight was the place she had chosen. She did not.

He couldn't help but feel this blasted building would take away another member of his family. His hope of finding Spike had fluctuated and the seconds ticked by.

"We'll find him," Ed said sensing Greg needed to hear it to believe it.

"Everyone's been saying that and we haven't found him. He's here, somewhere I know it. And he's cold, he's drugged, and he's alone bleeding to death." Greg yelled at Ed; spit flying from his gritting teeth. "The temperature's still dropping, the time frame of finding him alive is dropping and I don't want to waste any more of that time!"

"Spike is stronger than we like to think he is, not just in body strength but in his heart. I believe he'll hold on for us," Ed said. It was one of the only thing he was able to hold onto himself. Spike's love and compassion had gotten them though some dark disturbing calls, his laugh only to cure their fear, and right now they all needed to hold onto that. "Believe me when I say, We Will Find Him." He said emphasizing each word.

Greg paused for a moment looking past Ed's shoulder towards a swaying light nearby. He nodded his head just as he heard a voice yell, _"I've found him!"_

/-/-/-/-\\-\\-\\-\\

Jules looked at every open space she could see, searched every inch of snow for signs that someone had disturbed the fallen crystalline water; all the while praying her flashlight wouldn't illuminate a frozen corpse.

Winnie's actions were almost mirror like to Jules. She wanted to voice her concern as to what they would find but forced herself to keep it hidden. She had to remain positive. She was normally on the other end of a line in these situations never on the street. She had partaken in search operations, before she had joined SRU, but never for someone she cared about.

"We should update the power-medics; let them know how long he's been…" she stopped looking at a patch of snow near to a car. "I've found something," she said walking towards it.

"What is it?" Jules asked following her.

Winnie reached the glistening object. It was small and if she hadn't been looking for any obstruction in the white she wouldn't have spotted it, a soft red disturbance. Her eyes locked on the speck, "It's blood, trail leads this way," she pointed her light into the direction the trail lead in. It lead back to the building.

Together they followed the trail for approximately 36 feet until they came across a knife producing from the ground. "She must have dropped it before she was found." Jules looked up, her eyes drifting towards a light dancing across the building's exterior.

"Spike," she breathed out her breath evaporating in the air. "Where are you?"

"_I've found him!"_ she heard the yell a few feet away. She began running Winnie behind her, in the direction of a group of cars. She almost fell over her feet as her foot struck against a discarded book. She recovered her balance and reached the source of the sound.

Wordy was kneeling over Spike's fragile form at the rear of a car. A pool of blood soaking the white blanket beneath him, coating the Id strap around his wrist, and the blue hospital gown he wore. Wordy had one hand pressed against his neck the other pressed against the source of the blood.

"I can't find a pulse," Wordy said looking over Spike's body. His eyes focused on his friend's chest, noticing no movement. He lowered his head so his ear allied with Spike's nose and mouth,"He's not breathing."

Greg and Ed, closely followed by two power medics, came up behind them as Wordy straightened Spike's body. "Oh God… Spike," Greg croaked, hands covering his mouth.

"One, two, three, four, five, six," Wordy counted, both hands on Spike's chest. When he reached thirty the medic now kneeling beside him took over. He quickly placed an air way bag over Spike's lips, after pushing Spike's tongue to one side, he pinched Spike's nose and then took a deep breath. One breath and then another there was no change.

The medic nodded at Wordy to begin compressions again, "Breath, breath please," he whispered blinking his eyes that began to water as Spike's body shock with his movements. "Breath!"

**-End of Chapter-**

Medical Notes:

Citalopram is a anti-depressants. It can be used in 10, 20, and 40 mg tablets or an oral solution.

Melatonin is a type of sleeping control tablet. I believe in higher doses it can be used to as a sleep indusing tablet but I'm not sure.

An air way bag is the bags that power medics and police use in resuscitation.

The little information I found was with help from my friends, almost of whom are studying medical related courses, and little snippets of the internet.

Review replies:

Hope06: Thank you for having faith in me, I have My film studies exam this week and have been writing this between revision. Yes, I think everyone needs a hug especially after this chapter. I wanted to show Greg's affection towards Spike without it seeming to OOC. I hope I have served the characters some justice in that respect. And yes, awwwww Winnie I really started to love her character after One Wrong Move and I have no idea why.

Gryffen1: Sorry sucker for cliff-hangers. I'll keep going me dear, not giving up on this story easily. I thought It was the same you, seems to be bothering some people recently. And it's good to be back, heat wave and all.

PinehollowStables: Yes I updated. So glade your interest has grown and happy your enjoying the story.

Buckeye am I: Yes it was very info heavy wasn't it. Thank you for point out the little flaw. I had put in page breakers but deleted them when I up loaded. Know you know who the woman was. I hope some questions have been answered, if not there are still more answers to come.

Ealasaid Una: Oh you're good. You've caught onto a plot device. Thank you for reviewing.

Mermers: Fire, fire. I had to think of something dramatic to move the plot along, and I haven't used that one yet. Although I changed my mind later in the writing process I had to keep it in. thank you for your Review.

Argallel: Yes poor Spike, he does seem to be an angst target doesn't he. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to give issue some justice without dramatizing them too much. I've seen something's about medical issues taken completely out of context. Thank you for reading my work, it warms my heart.


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